Chapter 15

He, I could somehow tell it was a he, said something. I was so busy concentrating on holding on to the multiplex patterns of spells inside me and working on making the weakness recede that I had no attention to spare.

The tidal wave of exhaustion passed over me and I could feel the pain of a broken nose, healing ever so slowly. I blinked my eyes open, leaking tears. The only thing that didn't hurt was my hair.

It took another minute before I could focus enough on the outside to comprehend speech. I was starving, incredibly weak, but still suffused with ordered patterns of magic that left me stronger than I'd ever been. I felt like a starved vampire, needing life force to quench an unquenchable thirst, but I was not insensate.

With a titanic effort, I turned my head, lashes lowered against the blinding light, looking around to see if there was anyone nearby. The man who'd tried to talk to me was staring at the wreckage I'd made of the lower floor of the building across the street, just standing there, and there was no one else close by. I could hear sirens in the distance, and the patter of feet moving closer.

I took the chance, gathering what little reserves I had, and cast the draining spell. He collapsed as I felt myself come alive, the drought suddenly over. Springing to my feet, I managed to catch him before he broke anything against the asphalt. Alive again! My nose was already healing, and I took a tissue out of a pocket, cleaning the worst of the bloody mess away. I needed a mirror to do it properly, but I could probably pass muster. A cantrip cleaned the blood and dust from my clothes, another mending those rips I could see.

The slightest ripple in the air was the only warning, and I ducked, feeling something pass by. I could suddenly see through the illusion of emptiness. A veritable giant, heavily tanned, blond, the height of a basketball player and the width of a football player, with a sword longer than I was tall in hand, eyes dilated and a wild look on his craggy features, was trying to cut me in half for some obscure reason. He swung the claymore at me again, fairly foaming at the mouth, "Die, heretic!"

Danger equals religion, I noted mentally, and dived beneath the swing, kicking at his knee. I was faster than anything human — but so was he. The blade dipped, following my downward slide, and I had to roll away, trying the cutting spell — for some reason, I couldn't see inside him — on his hand. I could see the power just bouncing off. I skipped back, conjuring a small fence of air I held onto for just a moment, to trip him up. It worked, and I looked at the ground, trying to form spikes to impale him with a transmutation spell. That one didn't work — I needed more time to learn how to shape the particular material, time I didn't have.

Abandoning the effort, already feeling the weight of spells I'd cast and was keeping active, I began scrambling away, rising to my feet and running down the street. A quick look over my shoulder showed me that a stern chase, this once, was not going to be a long chase. With much longer legs, he was catching up easily.

Since magic directed at him simply bounced, I tried something else, and sent an uncapped pen at his throat. It wasn't a simple toss — the pen was backed by the full force of the second order slingshot spell, the plastic made denser, the wind granting it all the momentum of a bullet wrapped with solid strands of magical power.

My mouth dropped open when he raised his sword and parried it. Oh, it cost him — the impact was enough to send him flying, but the weapon was unharmed, and he wasn't hurt badly enough for my taste. There was obviously more to that sword than appearances suggested.

It gave me enough of a lead to shake him off, running full-tilt, picking a random course and using the full extent of my enhanced agility to leap and climb over barriers.

Three guys with baseballs bats, egged on by a pair of skinny teenaged girls, objected to my passage through 'their' turf. I was in a killing mood, and it was an effort not to snap their necks. I drained all three, enough to replenish my energy, fill my reserves, and leave them weaving on their feet, barely conscious, then used one of their bats to break an arm each and knock them out. I turned a burning gaze on the girls, who cowered back against the fence. The petty meanness they'd displayed had awakened my cruel streak. I didn't hit them or break anything. I concentrated on the first and burned away her vocal chords, catching her as she fainted, lowering her gently to the ground. I turned my eyes on the second, who stood there frozen, the look of fear on her face feeding my anger... and paused as I noted the blazing signature of magical potential. This one might be stronger than Kristen, when trained.

It was an impulse decision. I was tired of having to go through parents, get permission, convince and cajole. I was tired of having to always watch my own back, always facing the threat of attack, frustrated, angry and probably not rational. I decided to take her, just like that, there and then.

A quick look around, and I saw that no one was looking in our direction. On the third floor of one building, a woman was hanging out laundry, and I could hear five children playing catch behind the fence, but neither represented a threat.

"Repeat after me, do exactly as I do, or I'll kill you," I threatened her in a cold voice of iron, and cast a breeze spell in an obvious and exaggerated manner. I didn't want her to have even so minor a weapon as the firefinger cantrip, not until I was sure of her.

Trembling, she stumbled through the spell. "No, you're mispronouncing Isstkleth," I repeated the word, "and you're twisting the index finger too much," I re-enacted the motion.

It took her two minutes, but she managed to stir a small breeze.

"Welcome to the world of magic, apprentice. You're mine now, and you're coming with me. Forget about the rest of your life, it doesn't matter, not anymore," I took her limp hand, careful not to use too much strength and crush it, and led her away. She followed, automaton-like.

I used a spell to pick a lock on a back door, climbed a flight of stairs, and came out on a major thoroughfare. I didn't really remember the way back, any more than I remembered exactly how I'd come to be where I was, but the knowledge was there, accessible. Magic was truly amazing, and somehow the little things were at least as impressive as the building shattering energy bolts. I couldn't begin to imagine the attention to detail the crafting of all those spells required, spells for almost any and every need and possibility.

I spent the entire walk back to the hospital grounds in a state of nervous tension, every sense stretched to its limits, but nothing occurred. The girl couldn't keep up with my pace, so I picked her up and carried her, effortlessly. I went in quickly, found a bathroom, put her down, and cleaned up. I had her wash her face, wiping away the tears, and really looked at her for the first time.

In ratty jeans and a flowery pink top that showed a pierced navel, she just stood there apathetically, looking down at a pair of pink sneakers. Tanned, with straight yellow hair, I lifted her chin and looked into wide, fearful brown eyes. Heart-shaped face, with sharp cheekbones and chin, that lent her a foxy look. A piercing on the side of her nose showed a small, glinting red stone. Pretty, really, though her skin was not in the best of conditions. Her breasts were mere bumps, she was much too thin, and stood a full head shorter than myself, truly petite.

I used some of the power I'd taken from her friends to change her. Smoothing out the skin and leaving her pale, removing the piercings and incinerating them, darkening the hair, leaving her a blue eyed brunette. I shot her an appraising look — much better.

"Look at the mirror," I ordered curtly.

She jumped, turned to look, and gasped, hands rising to her face. Leaning forward, eyes intent, she examined everything with utmost care. Her fingers slicked over smooth skin, "Oh... nice!" she sounded sincere.

"It's nothing. You're a student wizard now," I conjured a small flame from my finger and banished it, "and you'll be able to change your appearance to anything, anything at all. As beautiful or ugly as you want to be, a clone of any movie star or model you like most. There is a great deal to tell, but not here. First, I'm Logan, Logan Reeves. What is your name, apprentice?"

"Ah... ," she hesitated, her attention still on her new look, "I'm Kate, I mean, Katherine Marks."

"Not anymore. Pick a new name, any new name. It's an entirely new life."

"Oh," she seemed lost, looking down at her feet. At least she wasn't catatonic or hysterical, I bowed mentally to the ancient archwizards and their loyalty bindings.

"Do you want me to pick a name? How old are you?"

"I'm fourteen. Well, almost, in November."

"New name?" I asked, not bothering to hide my exasperation. I'd kidnapped a 13 year-old girl, hurrah. No more impulse decisions for, say... a month.

"You pick it," she threw at me.

"How about Deirdre? Di, for short?"

She considered a moment before nodding, "Di. Okay."

"Now, we'll drive over to my place. I'll explain a few things, and leave you there. My other apprentices are shopping, I have to pick them up. I'll leave you with something important to read, and you can raid my sister's closets — you're her size."

Slowly, she nodded, probably still in shock. I changed the colour of her shirt to white, putting in a Garfield strip, and turned her faded blue jeans to black, pink shoes to black.

"Let's go," I took her small hand and led her to my bike. Helmets on, we drove off. Sunset was still hours away.

I stopped once, dropping the Richard illusion and returning the Fireblade to its original paint scheme and license plate configuration.

Di was all ga-ga over the size of the house and the garage, and almost dropped over her own feet when she looked at me.

"Who... what..." she seemed to panic.

"Relax, Di, it's the same Logan, but without the illusion. This is what I really look like. At least, what I look like at present. Remember, I told you could look like anything you wanted to? I can do the same, and so can any other competent wizard. Don't rely on appearances."

"Ah," and a stare summed her response.

Suppressing a sigh and a growl of frustration, I took her hand, led her to the kitchen, and began heating leftovers and setting some cold cuts, fruits, cheese, and breads on the table.

"Magic, casting spells, takes energy from us, from our bodies... ," I began the basic introduction to the wizard's world, the usual half-hour lecture. She woke up, actually daring to ask a couple of intelligent questions. I had her cast and recast her one spell and eat as I lectured, and made sure I had her full attention.

"Now... ahahe," I coughed as a possibility popped up. "Can you read?" I asked, tense. The actual state of literacy around was a sudden concern. I'd already mapped out means of recruiting and training hundreds and thousands of wizards, but I'd never even considered the possibility of 13 year-olds not being able to read well, or at all. Well, by the time I got that far, I'd have a staff to take care of minor problems. Ha, Di might well be part of it.

"Yes, I can read," she glared at me, "I've even read... books!"

Whoa, an unexpected reaction. "Here's a book for you. This is the book of wizardry, the basic magic manual. It contains thousands of spells, and you'll start learning from it. Don't try to do too much at once," I warned her again, "you can..."

"Yeah, yeah, kill myself, magic is dangerous. Heard you the first time," she stopped abruptly, probably swallowing a pejorative adjective.

"Now, follow me," I gave her a quick tour of the house, and finally led her to the forbidden shrine, telekinetically picking the lock on my sister's suite. I pointed inside, gesturing expansively, "Closets, inside. Take a pile of clothes, put them up in one of the guest rooms, your new home for a few days. Bought a new house, so we'll probably be moving soon. My parents will be back on Monday, and if they ask, you tell them I helped you out, and you'd rather not talk about it. Refuse to talk about it."

"Wha..." she started, gulped, and quieted.

"Ask."

"What did you do to my friends?" she lowered her eyes, lips trembling.

"Who? They don't exist for you anymore, Di. They wouldn't even recognize you. For your information, the guys each have a broken arm, and the girl will never talk again."

"Never talk?" she yipped. "Just a broken arm? You touched them, they sorta, like, fell."

"Do you think it's amusing, hitting people who walk by with bats, just because they're there? Do you think it's wrong?" I caught her chin, and made her look me in the eye. She struggled for a moment, then opened her eyes.

"Yeah, it's a blast. Okay, don't, I admit it's wrong," she gasped out as I slowly tightened my grip.

"My sorceresses have to follow certain standards, Di. Senseless, pointless cruelty is not something I condone or am prepared to tolerate. I burned your little friend's vocal chords to nothing, Di," she tried to cower away and groaned. I released her before I grew annoyed enough to grind her jaw to dust.

"You'll need to shape up. Stay quiet and try to learn as best as you can. Listen to the others. I'll introduce you when I return. You can have a home with us, if you do it right, and everything you ever dreamed of. Money is not a problem anymore, Di. It's a different world, with different rules, one Queensbury never saw."

"Queensberry?"

"The 9^th Marquis of Queensbury, which happens to be a Scottish peerage, endorsed a code of rules for boxing, known as the Marquis of Queensbury rules. What I was attempting to explain is that we're in a war with no rules, no mercy. Your life, our lives, depend upon our actions, and every single day can bring death or worse. I've already fought for my life today, twice. Because of what you now are, there are myriad beings which seek your death. Believe."

She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "You're so fucking weird, boyo. Fuck, even the teachers at school don't talk like that."

"I'm well aware that I use perhaps more words than are strictly necessary, with few short cuts and little slang. After you read a few thousand books, I imagine you'll sound somewhat refined, too. A sorceress is a lady first," I added. My sorceresses would be ladies, people I could and would respect, I was most certainly going to insist on that much. "Language is a weapon and a tool, quite a sharp one. Lawyers?"

"Bloodsucking pimps?"

"In overwhelming quantities, perhaps," I nodded, "but try to imagine life without the rule of law, and how well an itty bitty girl like you would fare in such a world."

"Ah?" she looked at me quizzically.

"I'll give you a few books to read, later. Go on, take a shower, try the hot tub, pick some clothes and a room, learn a few more spells from the book and practice. I'll be back, with company."

Without further ado, I turned and left her to manage on her own. A glance at the wrist showed me that less than two hours had passed since I'd left Chris and Co. — it felt like a year had passed, every second drawn out unbearably. For the first time I could recall, I felt itchy at being alone, uncomfortable and nervous.

I took a few minutes to check the computers, and was startled and mightily pleased to find that Ellis Wright, the former co-worker I'd set on finding lost books of magic, had sent a reply to Richard Morgan, the alias I'd used for that job, and he'd found three of the hundreds plus books I'd mentioned. He went into detail, which I swiftly digested, and I sent him the requisite funds, plus a hefty commission, writing him to order the books and have them delivered to the P.O. box that constituted Richard Morgan, and to send me the tracking numbers on the orders.

The books he'd found were of relatively minor use at present, dealing as they did with lower order elemental bindings, advanced magical construction, and weather shaping rituals, but every little bit of magical knowledge was welcome. The good news managed to turn my mood around. I'd survived, acquired another powerful sorceress, and would soon have my start on a real magical library. Oh, the little sorceress' manners were a bit raw, but she didn't seem completely ignorant or stupid. The first could be remedied, the second would have been a disaster. That she had a temper was good, for she'd definitely have need of it.

I spend a few more minutes replying to mail before the discomfort grew pronounced. It was a strange feeling, this restlessness, for I'd always been comfortable alone. I was probably concerned about the girls' safety, as they were prone to using small magics. The local court of air had sent teams of sylphs, and perhaps other creatures, to scour the city for magicians — best check up on them. I looked at my phone with a grimace, for I was not at all fond of using it. Decision made, I sent them all a text message 'no magic', and hurried down to the garage.

I let go of ordinary caution and drove at full speed, weaving in and out of the traffic, making the mall in record time. With awareness and reaction speed souped up, I'd need divine intervention or enemy action to get into trouble on the road.

I spent half an hour looking for them, before acknowledging the hopelessness of the low-tech method. The mall was huge, and every fifth store sold clothes, shoes, or an accessory they were likely to look at. With Mickey and Chris along, I couldn't rule out book, computer, and gadget shops, either.

The background noise on the phone was intense, so I cupped the speaker and almost shouted at Chris, "Where are you?"

"Needed food, rest for sore feet," she shouted back, and named the bar cum club they were at. She offered to give me directions, but I declined, knowing that it would be easier to find it through the mall directory or questioning people. I took out my little hand-held pocket computer and traced the path to Kaburo's Club, which was actually located just outside the 'borders' of the mall. I stopped in a shop on the way, purchasing a wreath — can't have the girls accusing me of never buying them flowers. I recognized a few of the shop-frenzy-struck people from my high school, all of them richer students. It made sense, as I'd deliberately picked a higher class of shopping venue for this little trip.

The interior of the club had an intimate atmosphere, little nooks and crannies holding tables and chairs that granted an illusion of privacy. There was room for dancing, and in center stage was an actual stage — horror of horrors, they'd picked a karaoke bar. A woman wearing a trifle too much makeup was doing a perfectly horrid rendition of 'girls just wanna have fun' when I walked in. To avoid wincing and stoppering my ears, I concentrated on scanning the room, locating five members of my school's elite, all of the female persuasion, sitting together and sipping on concoctions that looked poisonous, what with the greenish neon-glow they emitted, before I found them.

I hurried over to my girls' table, moving perhaps a trifle too fast, dodging the waitresses a bit too adroitly. I really needed to learn how to tamp down on the enhancements, down to the unconscious level. I'd managed not to tear away the doorknobs back home, but it had required some attention and concentration. Di probably had bruises from where I'd gripped her, I frowned at the thought, the expression turning to a smile in response to the smiles Chris, Mickey, Kristen, and even Trish, directed at me.

I drew the flowers out from behind my back, and broke off a flower for each, setting it in their hair. Sitting down next to Mickey, I noticed only a few packages on the floor behind them, concluding that the rest was probably already in the car.

I weathered the thanks and kisses with aplomb, managing to steal a bit of food.

"Hey!" Kris complained, snatching at the chocolate croissant in my hands, "that's mine!"

"Now Kristen, sweet, I'm doing you a favor," I took another bite, "these things aren't good for you. Don't all the magazines tell you that?"

I caught her kick and pulled her leg, dropping her under the table, and looked around to see if anyone was watching. Then I slithered below, using my grip on her foot as a lever to twist her around, shattering her concentration and breaking the spell she was trying to cast.

"No magic, Kris," I whispered into her ear, "and what did I say about kicking?"

"What?" she froze in my arms.

"Tying you down and tickling you with a feather... for an hour."

"You did not!" she struggled impotently.

"Well, I promised Christine, but you are hereby granted notice and warning that the same shall apply to you. Now let's get off the floor," I let go and she scrambled away.

I caught Mickey finishing the croissant in contention, and had to grin openly at the dainty, prim way she held it.

"You know, I think he needs to be punished," Chris mentioned casual-like, and Kris nodded enthusiastically.

"See if I ever bring you flowers again," I huffed.

There was lull in the deadly wails and sonic assault from the stage, and I relaxed back in the chair, popping my ears with a yawn. The show director, or whatever the job title might be, took the microphone, "Soooo! Thank you for that lovely rendition of Cindy Lauper's song. Now, who's next? Let's see," he started to consult a list, but his eyes turned to focus on our table. To my horror, the girls were all waving and pointing at me, and Chris tried to push me.

"So, it seems like we have a volunteer!" he smirked.

Pushing me wasn't doing much good, but everyone started to chant, "Sing! Sing! Sing!" so I gave in to the inevitable and climbed up to the stage with ill grace.

I whispered which song to the guy, and grabbed the microphone. My hands were sweaty. Serious anxiety. I took a deep breath and willed myself calm as the music started.

I looked at our table, caught Chris' eyes, and started warbling away,

If I had to live my life without you near me
The days would all be empty
The nights would seem so long
With you I see forever oh so clearly

Actually, it sounded surprisingly good,

Our dreams are young and we both know
They'll take us where we want to go
Hold me now, touch me now

Almost professional, really,

Nothing's gonna change my love for you
You ought to know by now how much I love you
One thing you can be sure of
I'll never ask for more than your love

I should have considered how the enhancements influenced control of the voice,

Nothing's gonna change my love for you
You ought to know by now how much I love you
The world may change my whole life through
But nothing's gonna change my love for you

I sang on, pouring some emotion into it, and from everyone looking at me, now at least half the crowd was staring at Chris, whose face had turned very red, almost a match for her hair. She stared at me resolutely, fingering the flower I'd put in her hair — some sort of violet orchid. Mickey and Kris were grinning at her, while Trish's eyes went from Chris to me, an odd expression on her face.

I bowed at the applause, 'whoos', and 'you tell her!' comments from the audience, and politely refused an encore. With my sharpened ears, I could hear quite a few comments I wasn't supposed to, very interesting comments. I sat back by Mickey, and Chris, still red-faced, leaned over her, grabbed the back of my head and kissed me with impressive intensity. After nearly a minute of lip-lock, we had to pause for some air, and I brought Mickey in for a three-way kiss.

All of which elicited more talk, including some particularly uncomplimentary comments from four of the five girls I'd recognized from school. The fifth, unexpectedly, was silent. With the light-speed gossip connections, I computed that almost everyone in school would learn of my changed circumstances — or rather, something of my changed circumstances — by Monday, at the very latest. I couldn't think of any ramifications, quite possibly because I was very distracted. Chris had gotten quite good at kissing and Mickey was no slouch, though I had considerably more endurance, and a more agile tongue as well. Having to restrain myself from kissing them hard enough to bruise kept the experience from being completely blissful, as did my growing erection and extant paranoia — I couldn't help but listen hard for anyone's approach.